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While I realized that my condition was critical, I was also aware that a number of other people in the ward were struggling to hold on to life.  “This is the house of death,”  I told myself.  Thirty-six hours passed, and I was still alive and now able to breathe without having the oxygen mask on all the time.  My thoughts ascended to God in a melody of praise. 

That Sunday evening the intensive care unit was in a state of great urgency, and the head nurse called for additional help to meet the situation.  To my immediate right an elderly man appeared  on the point of death as two nurses struggled to keep him alive.  To my left a man in his 30s, already having had three heart attacks, stated that he was probably living his last days.


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